Page 38 of The Witch

“Why do you ask me this?” I say in a quiet voice.

He heaves a sigh. “Molly told me… She said…”

He cannot bring himself to finish, but he does not have to. Molly told him my secret. I should have known.

“I did,” I finally say. “I…I am sorry to disappoint you.”

Archie’s face falls. He rakes both hands through his hair, making it almost as messy as that of the scoundrel Jonas Reeve. “But you told me…”

“I am sorry,” I say again, and I truly mean it. “I so fervently wished that your dream was a prophecy and that I would find myself with child. But…”

“But you are not.” The volume of his voice raises several notches. “You made me think that you are, but that was a lie. You lied to me.”

“Archie—”

“And Molly told me other things,” he continues. “She told me that you disrespected Dr. Shaylor. And that you bewitched Judith Hatch until she suffered fits.”

His words are a dagger in my heart. “You cannot truly believe such a thing to be so! I nursed Judith back to health. She is doing so much better now.”

“So you say.”

“Molly is a most untrustworthy soul.” I am certain Molly must be listening to this conversation, but I pay no mind. I hope that she has her ear to the door and hears every word. “She weaves tales about me for she bears me malice. She is a liar.”

“The only person who has lied to me,” he says, “is you, Caroline.”

Archie’s face is filled with hurt. Though Molly has wronged me, spinning false tales of my character, he speaks the truth. I led him to believe I was with child, and that was a lie. His disappointment rests heavily on my heart.

“Archie,” I begin.

But before I can utter another word, we are interrupted by a knock upon the door.

My stomach twists. ’Tis long after nightfall, and we are not expecting any callers. My first thought is that it must be Hiram Hatch and that Judith has taken ill again. Either way, there can be no happy news at this hour.

“I will see who is calling,” Archie says in that same tight voice. He hurries to the door, while I trail behind him. He casts a look over his shoulder at me, then turns his attention back to the door, asking, “Who is calling?”

“Mr. Eldridge, ’tis Deputy Strickland.”

Deputy Strickland? What business has he here in the middle of the night? Certainly nothing good. I wring my hands together as a feeling of dread mounts within me.

Archie unlocks the door and throws it open. Strickland is standing before us, wearing a long black cloak. The shadows have cast an eerie look upon his face, and he appears like death himself.

“What can I do for you, Deputy?” Archie asks.

“I have come for Mistress Caroline Eldridge.” Strickland’s tone is somber but firm. “She stands accused of the craft of witchery.”

What? I take a step back, my heart racing. “No…”

“Mistress Eldridge.” The deputy’s gaze now rests on my face. “You are hereby under arrest.”

29

PRESENT DAY

JULIA

What was so unusual about Caroline Eldridge?” I ask Henry.

I am suddenly desperate for the answer to this question. I tried googling Caroline Eldridge when I had a little bit of reception on my phone, but no luck. She might have been executed for witchcraft, but history seems to have forgotten her. I suspect there’s some dusty old book at the town library that mentions her, but it seems unnecessary to dig through those archives when Henry appears to have an encyclopedic knowledge about colonial New England.